


Icing on the Cake

by dedougal



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:51:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Competitive baking was hard enough without the fact Jensen was constantly up against one Jared Padalecki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icing on the Cake

There are two things that Jensen dreaded: pastry and failure. It’s not that he’s bad at pastry. It’s just that he’s so much better at everything else – his sponges always rise evenly, he can temper chocolate to that perfect glossy consistency. But pastry always has been the thing he always had to work at. It never came easy like every other type of baking.

And of course, that fucking man-child was some kind of pastry savant. It was bad enough that Jensen had to share a workbench with the guy and see him turn out perfect recipes all through the competition. But Jared was actually bouncing at the idea of a pastry round.

Jensen eyed the knife block. He was being filmed a lot of the time. They had all of Jared on film being annoying and cheerful and smiley when it was too fucking early in the morning, before the coffee had a chance to kick in. On the other hand, the producers would probably find a way to edit the show to make Jensen appear to be a psycho raving lunatic and his momma would never forgive him.

The kitchens were emptying week on week. The whole thing had started with twelve contestants determined to fight it out to be crowned king or queen of the Bake Off. They were now at the halfway point. Six people left. And he and Jared were the only men. And when Jared acted like a giant child so much of the time…

The crew had Jared out filming some interviews and some b-roll of him playing with his dogs. It made him look adorable. Jensen knew these shows were all about the narrative and characters. He tried to ignore all that, focus on the baking. The prize was drool-worthy – a nice chunk of change and a chance to bake for some damn important people – but the publicity would ensure his little bakery in downtown Dallas had more of a chance of surviving the shitty economy. He was here to show how amazing his cakes were, not to become some kind of reality star.

The kitchen was dark and cool when he entered. The women had been gathered around the TV in the living room they all shared, gossiping awkwardly. Jensen could have cut the atmosphere with one of the knives he’d thought about using to go all Reservoir Dogs on Jared with. And with Jared out filming, it seemed that the kitchen would be calm and quiet and Jensen could get on with some of his favourite pastime: stress baking.

The kitchen was mostly still in darkness. There was no point in switching on more than the lights he needed. During filming, the lights were even brighter, making sweat drip down the back of his shirt even though the place was air conditioned. Maybe that was more the stress of the timing and the competition. Jensen was quite happy in the low light, enough to see what he was doing. His first batch of cupcakes went in without incident, a simple strawberry mix, and he turned to scones next, kneading the dough to get a natural mix. Cranberry and orange. The dough was moist and sticky, due to the sour cream, but it tasted spectacular.

Jensen was in the zone. He had to concentrate to get the consistency right, the timings, the ingredients, but there was no pressure, no camera breathing over his shoulder, no Jared watching him with hawk eyes to steal his ideas and put him off his stride. It was familiar, like being back in the kitchen in the bakery, and he felt the tension slip away.

Cupcakes out, scone in. He thought about starting a bread dough but it would need time to rise and he wasn’t going to be here that long. Maybe some pancakes to finish? He concentrated on mixing the buttercream icing while he thought, watching the yellow mess smooth to creamy white. He looked over to check the timer on the oven and just about jumped three feet in the air.

Jared was there, leaning against a counter, just at the edge of his circle of light. The gleam on his eyes, his teeth had been the thing to make Jensen start, an unexpected person where there should be none.

“Fuck.” The expletive was out before Jensen could censor it. It was a little freeing, actually, to be able to curse when he’d been so careful to keep his language family friendly.

Jared’s smile widened to a grin. “You were so focused.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Jensen turned back to the bowl. He’d managed to splatter icing over the counter and himself and Jared and the floor. Wasted. He should wipe it up but the kitchen towels were behind Jared.

“It was cute,” Jared said. He came closer, towels in one hand. The other swiped a smear of icing from the counter. He then proceeded to suck the digit clean, tongue dipping around the long, elegant finger as he slid it in and out of his mouth. Jensen watched, fascinated, enthralled and a little turned on. Jared was essentially fellating his finger. He swiped up another blob of icing, taking his time eating it, tongue swirling around, licking and tasting. Jensen jerked his eyes away.

Jared was all ninja like, because by the time Jensen had got himself under control and looked back up, he was closer, massive limbs invading Jensen’s space, the heat from his body working its way through Jensen’s thin t-shirt.

“What do you want?” Jensen bit out.

There was a lingering pause, a silence that drew out to be more than just a thinking pause. It was as if Jared expected Jensen to fill in the blank himself. Finally Jared spoke. “You.”

“Uh huh.” Jensen was interrupted by the buzz of the timer. Time to check the scone. He peered in through the glass door and fumbled for the oven mitts. Jared handed them to him, staying close, allowing Jensen only enough room to open the oven door and draw out the hot baking sheet. With the way Jensen was bent over and the way Jared was hovering near his ass, it sent another one of those visual mental images through his head. It wasn’t that Jared wasn’t cute or anything. He was tall, lanky, muscular without being all pumped out of recognition. And maybe Jensen had checked out his ass when he bent to take something out of the oven, or when Jared exposed his abs by pulling up his t-shirt to wipe at his face. And maybe those memories had fuelled a few of Jensen’s “personal moments”.

Not that he would do anything about that. Because Jared was an idiot. An annoying, childish, pathetic, foolish, stupid idiot. Who was stripping of his icing smeared t-shirt. Revealing abs and skin and nipples. Little brown, lickable nipples that were right at Jensen’s eye level.

Ah.

Jensen realised he was staring. He was more than staring. He was attempting to move forward and bite down but he seemed frozen in place. Jared flung the t-shirt over onto his own workstation and leaned back against the icing splattered surface. Of course some of the icing transferred onto his skin. And then the whole lickable thing was back. Jensen could feel the heat of the baking tray burning through the oven mitts and he clattered the tray down onto the surface next to the cooling cupcakes. Jared reached over and snagged one.

“These look good.” He stripped off the paper case and shoved the cake whole into his mouth. “Moist.”

Jensen brought his attention back to the scone and focused on safely lifting it onto the wire rack. Ignore Jared and he’d go away. There was flour on his hands when he’d finished and he turned to find the cloth he’d been wiping his hand on. But, as if by magic, all he could see was the firm muscles of Jared’s chest.

He couldn’t resist. He brought his smeared dirty hand forward and wiped it across Jared’s naked flesh, leaving a trail of white flour. The touch was instantly addictive, Jensen bringing his other hand to touch and grab, to trail flour across the cut of Jared’s hip, the shape of his pecs. Jared started with a supercilious smirk, pleased with himself for provoking such a reaction. Then the expression faded, genuine arousal, the hitch of breath when Jensen stroked across a sensitive spot. Jensen gave in to temptation, leaned forward and licked at one of the smears of icing, tasting the sweetness of the sugar and the sweat of Jared’s skin all in one mouthful.

Jared finally stopped playing it cool and brought his hands down to grab Jensen, pull his head up, his lips closer. He let breath gather between them for a moment, as if seeking permission. Jensen nodded, as much as Jared’s grip would let him, before closing the gap. Jared met him halfway, lips parting readily. Jared’s lips were soft, supple and seemed to suck every thought other than “more” out of Jensen’s brain. He actually moaned when Jared drew back, something he would deny was a disappointed whimper.

On the other hand, Jensen was damn happy that Jared had obviously decided that he was wearing too many clothes. Jensen struggled out of his apron and shirt as Jared popped the button on his jeans, dropping them to the floor and kicking them off with his flip flops. Then Jared reached out and reeled Jensen back in, hands working at his zipper while his lips swallowed the gasps Jensen seemed helpless to suppress anymore. Especially not when he felt the hard planes of Jared’s chest press against him.

Jared finally managed to get his pants down. It was when he grabbed Jensen’s ass that he remembered he’d gone commando after his shower. He needed to do laundry desperately. Jared didn’t seem to mind, not with the way he was enthusiastically mauling Jensen’s mouth. Then Jensen realised that Jared’s hands were doing more than groping his ass. They were getting a firm grip and lifting him to sit on his counter. The counter smeared with icing and flour and the remains of cranberries. With the flour and icing sugar and food colourings all scattered across the metal surface. Jensen cursed the fact he was a messy baker. He should have listened to his momma and tidied up as he went along.

“Jared-“ Jensen managed to get out, before Jared’s mouth was stealing his words again. “No. Stop.”

Jared stepped back. Jensen took the opportunity to glance down, catching sight of the sizeable tent in Jared’s boxers and feeling the anticipation roll up his spine. Then he got his head back on straight and looked up at Jared’s face. He looked a little guilty.

“Not stop, like, this-“ Jensen winced as he pointed to his ever so interested dick. “I meant. Shouldn’t we do this in a bed?”

“You ever fucked in a kitchen, Ackles?” Jared had his hands on the waistband of his boxers and Jensen found himself mentally urging Jared to push them off. He needed to see Jared’s cock. “I don’t think you have.” Jared teased the material down over one lean, cut hip. “And I’ve got you all naked for me now.” The other hip was revealed. Jensen sucked in a breath, wheezing slightly. Jared shoved the offending piece of cloth off before Jensen could make any more protests. His cock was glorious, swollen and the head glistened a little and Jensen wanted it lap it clean and swallow it down. Instead Jared came closer. “And I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Jensen nodded, supporting himself on his arms and spreading his legs wide in invitation. Jared grinned, a wicked smile Jensen had never seen before leaning forward to scoop some of the icing off the counter. “Plus I wouldn’t get to do this.”

Jared smeared the icing onto Jensen’s cock, using it to smooth the rough fist of his hand. Jensen’s hips shot upward of their own accord, seeking that warm, moist heat. His eyes shut and he missed Jared bending forward to swallow the tip of his cock, tonguing the slit and cleaning the icing off. Jensen gave up caring about the mess, letting Jared’s mouth work. And, man, did that guy know how to work it, slurping obscenely, drawing teeth ever so gently over the sensitive skin, letting Jensen bump against the back of his throat.

It was probably the best blow job Jensen had ever received. Scratch that. It was the best blow job in the history of blow jobs. Jensen tossed his head back and savoured.

Then, oh yes, then, Jared slipped his fingers into the mess of icing and saliva and pre-come coating Jensen’s cock and used it to swirl his finger below Jensen’s balls, trailing back to circle his pucker. Jensen gave up on holding back. “Do it! Fuck, Jared. Fuck.”

Jensen was down to his elbows, ignoring the squelch of ingredients, the clatter of cartons and bottles and jars to wrap his legs over Jared’s shoulders. The blunt press of his elegant fingers was enough to make his cock thrust into the welcome cavern of Jared’s mouth. Jared just took it, swallowing hard and pressing his finger in further, opening Jensen. “More,” he demanded, suddenly vocal. “Fuck it. Want your cock in me.”

The loss of the finger in him made him keen. The way it came back slicker, wetter and with a friend made Jensen lose all power of speech. He knew he should be embarrassed by the keening, pleading sounds he was letting out, but Jared’s fingers crooked just right and Jensen had to focus to not come right there. He wanted to come on Jared’s cock, he wanted to have the orgasm he could already feel building fucked out of him.

Jared seemed to get the message, straightening up. His mouth was red, his lips swollen. Jensen drank in the sight. Jared panted for a moment and then vanished, rummaging in his jeans and coming up holding a familiar foil square and a packet of lube. He should have known Jared would be a fucking boy scout. Jensen nodded, using the break to shift closer to the edge of the counter. Maybe he should get down, fuck on the floor. If his legs could support him.

“No, stay,” Jared said, coming to stand between Jensen’s spread legs. He fitted there, his cock rubbing against Jensen’s, sensitive and firm. Jared rolled the condom on, practised Jensen thought, and smeared the lube over, using the last to prep Jensen a little more.

This was a big deal, Jensen realised. He didn’t do this. Not just the fucking in the kitchen. The casual sex. Then again, the way he wanted to pull Jared’s hair out by the roots most of the time wasn’t too far removed from the way he wanted to use that hair to pull Jared’s mouth in for a kiss. An urge he gave into.

Jared slipped his fingers free and positioned his cock. He thrust in slowly, deliberately, shallowly fucking to make space for the monster that was splitting Jensen in half. It got better when Jared leaned further over him, forcing his tongue into Jensen’s mouth. His hand found its way to Jensen’s cock and then Jared rolled his hips, tightened his fist and proved he was as talented a fucker as he was a cocksucker and – Jensen had to grudgingly agree – as a baker. Jensen couldn’t really think much more after that, Jared striking every button he possessed, fucking hard and messy, breaths mingling together. It was almost with relief that he came, nerves stretched tight. Jared thrust a few more times, rhythm shot to hell, before he came too, falling over Jensen as it swept over him.

They kissed, gentler now, as their heartbeats returned to normal. Jensen slowly became aware of quite how uncomfortable he was. He was lying on a cold metal slab, with something cold and squelchy the only thing between his bare skin and the harsh steel. He pushed at Jared, hissing at the slide of his cock out of his over-sensitive hole. For all his discomfort, though, Jensen was still in a hell of a good mood. Jared helped him to sit up and back down on the floor, unwilling to stop touching, hands brushing at Jensen’s hair, the curve of his neck, resting at the small of his back.

Jensen took in the devastation around him. His previously neat rows of cupcakes were the least of his worries. The ingredients he’d had lying around were pretty much useless – spilled on the floor, smeared across the work station and – looking down – all over himself. Jared was slightly better off but he still had a substantial amount of flour and sugar and something that was possibly cocoa powder smeared on his naked body.

A giggle rose up inside him, unable to be quashed. Jared tried to look askance but gave in, holding on to Jensen’s shoulder to support his guffaws, his deep belly laughs. When he had calmed slightly, he wrapped himself around Jensen, getting even more of the mess on himself.

“Guess there’s some clean up to do.” Jared kissed Jensen’s ear as he said it.

“Mmm.” Jensen was unwilling to move from the warmth of Jared’s embrace. “Shower and bed too.”

“Why? You look good enough to eat.” Jared’s tone had dropped to low and sultry and the gentle kiss took on a harder, more determined edge.

Jensen wriggled out of the enfolding arms. “Clean up, Jared. We clean this place up first.” Jensen dragged on his pants, feeling more able to face Jared after he’d done that. “Then I suggest you join me in the shower and then we can fuck in a bed. I’m too old for any more of this athletic kitchen counter sex.”

Jared’s eyes widened and gleamed, and he set to, righting a few jars. “But you wouldn’t mind the floor, right? Kitchen floors are always really clean…”

Jensen’s hmm was more of an affirmative than anything else.


End file.
